


Four Things House Found Out About Wilson

by tomatopudding



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-26
Updated: 2009-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and one he didn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Things House Found Out About Wilson

**I. Music**

Every time Wilson came to stay with House, the spare bedroom was filled with boxes. Each box was carefully labeled for its contents. These neat boxes weren't the thing that confused House, it was the one box that was blank which caught his curiosity.

It was larger than the others, 5 ft by 2 ft. The first time House asked what was in it. Wilson had blushed and stuttered in that Wilsonesque way before ignoring the question altogether. So the tall box sat unopened. One weekend, House was paged with an emergancy on his patient. He bid adieu to his flatmate and limped out the door. He came home much earlier than planned (the patient had died) and unlocked the door.

The large box had been dragged from its spot in the spare room. From within was removed a navy-blue, plastic case, shaped like a wine bottle. It, too, was open. Wilson had moved the coffee table to one side of the room and replaced it with a tall, straight-backed chair from the kitchen table. The oncologist was perched on the edge of the chair, a cello clasped between his knees. He was playing.

House limped over quietly and studied his friend. Wilson't chocolate-colored eyes were shut lightly, his left hand was mesmarizing as it danced and shifted along the graceful neck of the instrument, his right guided the wooden bow smoothly accross the four strings. The sweetness and sadness of the melody Wilson was playing seemed to fill the room with warmth and glow. The tune ended, the final note ringing out, WIlson's left hand shaking in vibrato. The bow's tip stayed rested on the string, his left hand still vibratoing, long after the note had died into the air. WIlson braught the bow to his knee and opened his eyes to meet House's ice-blue gaze.

'You play cello?'

'Ever since I was twelve,' Wilson answered, nodding sheepishly. House nodded and sat at the piano.

'Know any duets?'

**II. Sibling**

'Mail call!' House sang, barging into Wilson's office. Wilson looked up from his paperwork and frowned.

'Since when do you get the mail from my box?'

'Since you got somthing that's not a bill.'

'So that's why my last credit payment was late.'

House dropped a small envelope on Wilson's desk. The oncologist picked it up and frowned as he studied it.

'It's addressed to Jimmy.'

'So?'

'_You_ are the only one who calls me Jimmy,' Wilson paused, 'Unless...'

His eyes widened and he ripped open the envelope hungrily. Enclosed was a piece of plain stationary, both sides covered in a neat, cursive scrawl. Wilson's eyes darted back and forth as he read, making it seem that he was watching a heated game of ping-pong. When he was done, Wilson grinned and clutched the letter to his chest.

'Gotta go! Gotta go! Don't want to keep him waiting at the airport! He's come to visit House! He's coming!' Wilson babbled, sliding his jacket on over his white labcoat.

'Who's coming?' House asked, trying to keep up with Wilson as he strode (almost running, House scoffed in his head) down the hall.

'Richard!'

'Who?'

'My twin brother!'

Wilson was, by now, running down the stairs two at a time.

'You never told me you had a twin,' House whined, though no one was there to hear.

**III. Strip**

_'Amber cheated on me.'_

'Didn't I tell you?'

_'With Taub.'_

'Oh. Sorry?'

_'...'_

'I know what'll help you feel better. Get your keys.'

-

_'No.'_

'C'mon!'

_'I'm not going to a strip club!'_

'I have your credit card.'

_'...'_

'...'

_'Bastard.'_

_-_

**'Drinks?'**

'Scotch on the rocks. Hold the rocks.'

_'Why do you do that? Just order a plain scotch!'_

**'Jimmy?'**

'You know each other?'

_'Oh my god, Kennith!'_

**'It's been so long!'**

'How do you two know each other?'

**'What have you been up to?'**

_'Oh nothing much, just got my medical degree.'_

**'Oh, Jimmy! You accomplished your dream! Oncology, right?'**

_'Kennith, you remembered!'_

'What the hell is going on!'

**'Aww! Is this your boyfriend!'**

_'No!'_

**'Jimmy's blushing!'**

_'No I'm not!'_

'Yes you are.'

_'Shut up.'_

**'You know, Jim, I bet Biddler would let you go.'**

_'What? No, no, that's past.'_

**'All the regulars are still here...'**

_'No!'_

**'Old time's sake, Jimbo? For your boyfriend?'**

** _"He's not my boyfriend!"_ **

** 'What do you mean old time's sake?' **

** **'Oh, memory lane is such a beautiful place!'** **

_'Kenny...'_

**'Remember Jack, Jimmy?'**

_'Kenny...'_

**'After you took off, it was never the same. "Where's the other one?" he said.'**

_'Kenny, please.'_

**' "You know, the pretty one".'**

'Wait, Jimmy, were you a...? Did you...? You worked here!'

_'...'_

**'Everyone wanted us!'**

_'Me and the shred of dignity I have left will be waiting in the car.'_

**IV. Sketch**

House woke to find himself looking into Wilson's eyes. The other man didn't seem to notice, as he was focused on a spot at House's throat. House frowned and watched Wilson curiously. Wilson's eyes began to wander. House could feel the gaze brush over his bare chest and stomach before lingering on his boxer-clad groin and upper-tighs. House began to get uncomfortable at the intensity of Wilson's gaze.

'What're you doing?'

Wilson flinched, as if jerking from a trance.

'Drawing,' Wilson answered, swallowing to moisten his throat.

'I didn't know you draw.'

Wilson grinned and closed the sketchbook in his lap before handing it over. House sat up and took the book flipping through it, admiring the work.

Steve McQueen sleeping in his cage

House playing the piano pre-infarction

Wife # 1 gardening

Tulips

Wilson's hand in many different positions

A self-portrait

Wife # 2 sitting in a chair, head thrown back in laughter

House sitting on the couch asleep, feet propped on the coffee table

Wife # 3 taking a nap

House laying in a hospital bed post surgury, connected to many tubes and wires

House spinning his cane, mouth open in mid-lecture

The last page contained the drawing Wilson had been working on. House was laying horizontal on his bed, faceless, left leg bent at the knee, arms in an 's' shape with one on either side of his torso.

'These are good,' House said in surprise, tracing the penned curve of his arms in the drawing. Wilson blushed.

'Thanks.'

House handed back the sketchbook, stood, and limped to the bathroom. WIlson smiled to himself and hugged the book to his chest.

**And one thing he didn't...**

Head thrown back; sweat glistening on sharp cheekbones, dripping down the bridge of his nose; bright blues eyes halfway covered by heavy lids; mouth open and pink, teeth shiny and pearly and white;breath coming in short gasps.

_Almost_

Wilson's back arched and his eyes closed in ectasy.

'House!' he gasped, coming in hot spurts. Wilson lay for a moment in pure bliss. Then he opened his eyes to the sterile, empty hotel room bathed in the glow of sunrise. Wilson sighed and stood, heading to the bathroom to wash off his hand.


End file.
